


The one where Jonas has been pining for months and there's a party

by colazitron



Series: smut prompts [3]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Jonas can't seem to stop thinking about Isak.





	The one where Jonas has been pining for months and there's a party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affilliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. I made all of this up for fun.
> 
>  
> 
> The prompt for this was: Jonas/Isak, trying to keep quiet, foreforeforeplay, after months of pining

Ingrid is, if Jonas is honest, curiosity more than anything. He knew she liked him, and she’s a pretty girl. And Jonas is only just fifteen. He wants to know what it’s like to kiss a girl. To hold her waist. To touch her breasts. To have her touch him back.

So he asks her out, and he takes her on dates, and he’s sweet to her, and polite to her parents, and he only ever whispers about how wet she is when he puts his hands up her skirts to Isak, in the dark. Isak won’t tell anyone.

But the curiosity fades, and he’s not sure she wants more than that from him either, and so he breaks up with her.

Eva isn’t just curiosity. Eva is a fire that burns in his heart and the depth of his belly, bright like her hair in the sunshine, strong like her laughter, sweet like the taste of her lipgloss when she pulls him in with that one Church song in the background.

With Eva it’s explosive, and Jonas is caught in it so head over heels that he giggles with Isak in the dark, voice hushed and awed when he talks about touching Eva, about how she’ll sit on him and how she looks when nothing but her hair covers her. Isak never tells.

But while the late summer light turns Eva’s hair to molten copper, to fire, makes her so bright Jonas sees more than just some heads turn, he can’t help but glance over at Isak. At the straw blond of his hair that suddenly looks like it’s been spun to gold. The encouraging smile he’s starting to give other people - other _boys._ Jonas isn’t an idiot, and Isak is braver than he’ll ever be. The only thing he ever whispered back in the dark was ‘ _Do you think it’s the same with boys?’_ and though he’d tried to play it off as just curiosity, knows Jonas knows there isn’t a question in the world Isak isn’t interested in asking, it’s different now.

It’s different when Isak tips his head back and rubs delicate fingers over the triangle of skin that move reveals at the base of his neck. It’s different when Isak’s lips are so pink and he can see boys’ eyes flicker down to them when they talk to him. It’s different when Isak smiles like that, all slow and sticky-sweet.

But Eva feels good in his arms, on his arm, and Isak never stops smiling at him too, so Jonas goes on as he has. Kisses Eva and whispers to Isak in the dark. Maybe his whispers are closer now. Maybe sometimes he says “has anyone ever touched you like this?” and slides his hand up Isak’s arm, from the inside of his wrist to his elbow, until Isak pulls his arm away and laughs, a little uncomfortable.

Jonas can’t stop wanting to touch.

And he can’t keep being with Eva when he keeps lying to her. Can’t keep pretending she’s who he wants to be closest to when he’s keeping parts of himself from her. When he gives those parts to Isak without thinking, and wants to give him the parts Eva holds too.

So he breaks up with Eva as well and it doesn’t even hurt too badly when she starts kissing that pompous, pretty-boy third year. One of the ones who hands girls a sweatshirt with his name on the back like he’s keeping a walking, talking tally of how many girls he’s slipped his dick into. Eva at least gets a permanent marker, strikes his name through and puts her own there instead, makes him wear it to the laughter of her new friends. He does, too, and whenever Jonas sees him kissing some other girl, he lets Eva pull him away from her if she wants to.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Isak asks, leaning against the wall next to Jonas, watching Eva wrap a leg around Penetrator Chris too.

Jonas looks over at him, cheeks red with alcohol and especially the heat in this apartment, lips pink, and curly hair a little messy, and swallows heavily.

“Yeah,” he says, but it’s a little gravelly.

“Are you feeling alright?” Isak asks, frowning.

He’s been watching Jonas more closely for weeks now, always looking like he’s trying to work something out.

It started when he called Jonas in tears, slurring his words until someone else, some random guy, took Isak’s phone from him and told him to come fetch Isak from some bar he was far too young but pretty enough to get into, apparently. A _gay_ bar. The guy, Eskild, had been nice enough, but Jonas couldn’t get the thought of what a mess Isak had been out of his head, how easily everything that night could have gone so very wrong.

Ever since, Isak’s been sleeping over at Jonas’ almost five nights a week, and Jonas has had to face Isak first thing in the morning, with his hair rumpled from sleep, his belly bare when Isak gets too hot at night and pulls his shirt up in is sleep, his dick hard in his underwear and his duvet kicked off sometimes, because Jonas always, _always_ wakes up first and he doesn’t mean to look but he – fuck he sometimes wants to touch _so bad_. Wants to shake Isak awake and ask, _why not me?_ _Why am I never one of the boys you smile at, and touch your neck for?_

“Jonas?” Isak asks, putting a hand on his arm, startling him out of his thought.

“Yeah. Yeah, fine. Just– hot,” he says.

Isak nods and rubs his hand over the back of his neck with a grin.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shall we go find some air?”

Jonas agrees just for something to do and then marches Isak through the crowd, presses close to his back under the guise of using Isak’s slightly bigger body as a shield. He tries a few doors, all of them locked, and then finally finds the one to the backyard open. There’s beer out there to chill in the cooler air of this early May night, and Jonas grabs them each one.

Isak takes a deep breath of the air before he opens his own.

“Oh, this is better,” he says.

Jonas doesn’t say anything, just watches the long lines of his legs, his arms, the curves of his spine when he stretches, the curls of his hair tangled by the heat and dancing, but never, as far as Jonas knows, by a stranger’s hands running through them.

“How come you never hook up?” he asks.

Isak freezes. Jonas pushes away from the wall, takes another pull of beer, and then a step closer to Isak.

“I know there are girls who are into you,” he says, watches the way Isak’s eyes cut away and to the ground.

“I know there are boys too,” he says carefully, doesn’t miss the way Isak’s shoulder’s hunch. “You’ve certainly flirted with enough.”

“Jonas…”

“What? I’m not stupid. And I can see the way you smile at them sometimes, the way you tip your head,” he says, reaches up to tip Isak’s head back, even though he definitely doesn’t need to look _up_ to look Jonas in the eye, “the way you touch yourself here.”

Jonas’ fingers must be cold against Isak’s skin when he trails his fingers down over Isak’s neck, rubs at that patch of skin at the base of his neck that his loose t-shirts always show off like he’s saying _see where I’m vulnerable? Kiss me there._

“Do you really never kiss any of them?” Jonas asks, pulls his eyes away from the sight of his own fingers on Isak’s skin, looks up at him.

Isak’s eyes are wide, his cheeks even more flushed and bright red even out here in the chilly dark. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, and Jonas’ heart does that thing where it swells three sizes and fills up with heat because Isak is so sweet, and Jonas likes him so much, and he wants to kiss him so badly.

Isak shakes his head.

“They’re not–”

_Oh._

Isak has a crush.

Jonas curls his fingers around the collar of Isak’s t-shirt, tries to wrap his mind around the idea that one day, probably one day soon, Isak will work up the courage to tell them and Jonas will have to watch him kiss someone else, will have to be happy that Isak is happy.

“Will you kiss me?” he blurts, holding Isak’s shirt so tightly he pulls Isak in by it a little.

“What? You don’t– you don’t want that,” Isak protests, flustered and with his hands hovering between them like he wants to push Jonas back but doesn’t want him to think he’s pushing him away.

Jonas laughs. God, Isak’s so busy making eyes at other boys he hasn’t noticed Jonas stealing glances when Isak’s not looking, hasn’t found it strange that Jonas touches him all the time, that he bursts into the bathroom like he’s genuinely forgotten Isak is in there showering, that he makes their touches linger far longer than they need to.

“I want to know what it’s like,” Jonas says. If Isak has never kissed anyone before then Jonas wants to be the person who gets to do it first. Even if it’s only once, at least it’ll be first. “Please, Isak.”

He leans in with his mouth open, lets his eyes slip halfway shut and watches as Isak doesn’t flinch away, just freezes there - except for his lips. He licks his lips and they drop open just enough for Jonas to fit his against them in a kiss that’s wet right off the bat. Jonas kisses him, holds Isak close by the collar of his shirt, and kisses him some more.

Until Isak makes a distressed noise, and gives Jonas a shove that separates them, makes Jonas stumble.

“I can’t do this,” he pants. “Fuck, Jonas, I can’t just kiss you because you want to _know what it’s like!_ I like you! Okay? Fuck, I’m into you, I can’t–”

Jonas’ ears stop ringing only just long enough for him to realise that Isak said ‘I’m into you’ before he moves forward again without thinking. Isak flinches like he thinks Jonas will kiss him again, but Jonas pulls him into a tight hug instead, buries his face in that goddamn triangle of skin. But he’s being good, he’s good, he knows he needs to–

“Me too,” he says, holds Isak tighter. “Me too, Issy, I like you so much.”

“You what?” Isak asks, tone breathless like he’d never considered the option that Jonas could like him back, and suddenly Jonas’ swollen heart squeezes tight. Somehow, no matter what he does, he always seems to eventually realise he’s left Isak feeling all alone. They have to work on that.

“I want to know what it’s like to kiss the boy I’ve wanted to kiss for months. I want to know what it’s like to kiss someone I like so much it makes my chest feel too small for my heart. I want to–”

Jonas’ lips catch on Isak’s skin as he babbles, and, no, okay, maybe he’s not that good, maybe he needs to kiss Isak here, just a little, just once, just so he knows he did. But Isak gasps, and grabs hold of Jonas, holds on to him back and whispers Jonas’ name into the breeze.

Jonas moans and lets his mouth wander up over Isak’s neck wetly, leaves a trail behind that cools rapidly and makes Isak shiver, makes him duck his chin to meet Jonas’ mouth in a kiss. _Finally_ makes him kiss back, get his hands in Jonas’ hair and kiss him like he’s been starving to do it for as long as Jonas has. Maybe he has. But finding this out can wait, because Jonas’ hands and lips cannot.

He pushes until Isak stumbles back and crashes a little painfully against the side of the house, judging by the way he groans. Isak’s hands wander down over Jonas’ back, broad and warm even now, somehow, and Jonas has to press closer, has to fit them together thigh to chest, has to try and see if he can feel— anything. If he can feel that Isak is into this. He’s not quite sure what that’s meant to feel like, another guy’s hard dick in his jeans pressed against yours, but he’s sure he’ll know it when he feels it, so he gets his hands up under Isak’s shirt, rubs at his nipples, scratches him lightly, delights in all the different noises Isak makes.

Isak, for his part, pushes his hands down the back pockets of Jonas’ jeans, grabs and kneads and pulls him closer, shuffles their legs so they fit together comfortably.

And then suddenly, at the very periphery of Jonas’ senses, he hears voices getting louder, coming closer, and takes a hasty step back, grabs Isak’s hand to pull him around the side of the house, lean him against the wall there, staring into each other’s eyes as some boys shout about having found the rest of the beer, several cans being cracked open.

Isak stares at him with his eyes wide and his mouth shiny in the moonlight. And, fuck, those guys are distracted with their stupid jokes and the beer anyway, so Jonas leans in again and kisses Isak, pushes closer at the small noise Isak makes. He’s almost sure Isak is going to push him away, but instead Isak wraps his arms back around him and pulls him closer, rubs his whole body against Jonas’ in a way that has him swallowing down a moan at the very last second. Shit, fuck. Can those people not grab their beer and leave? They’re not distracted enough not to realise there’s someone moaning just around the corner, probably.

But Jonas can’t stop kissing Isak now that he can, now that he knows Isak never smiled at him like that because he didn’t dare. That he’s been thinking of Jonas, that maybe he didn’t say anything about Jonas’ lingering touches and lingering eyes because he liked it. That maybe when he woke up alone in Jonas’ bedroom because Jonas fled to the shower before the sight of Isak all riled up on his floor could persuade him to do something drastic– that maybe he reached down, just once. Gave himself a squeeze as he looked over at Jonas’ bed, thought of the two of them there, couldn’t have dared to get off on Jonas’ bedroom floor when he didn’t know when Jonas would be back, when his sister or his mum would walk in. But he’d lie there, and he’d _want_.

It drives Jonas a little wild, thinking about Isak palming himself in his bedroom, and he pulls away from Isak’s lips to put his mouth to his neck instead, kiss and suck and bite in a way he knows is going to leave a mark. Isak makes one tiny noise in the back of his throat and then one of his hands leaves Jonas’ body, comes up to clamp tightly over his mouth, like it’s easier to remember to be quiet with the physical reminder.

Fuck, Jonas wants to take Isak’s clothes off and touch him _everywhere._

The guys haven’t left the terrace yet, and they’ve still got their jackets inside, but maybe they can just sneak around to the front of the house and grab them. Yeah. That’s a plan.

So Jonas pulls back from the love bite that now glows bright on Isak’s neck, watches him lower his hand from his mouth to touch the wet-hot spot on his neck with bright, molten eyes, and then grabs his wrist to drag him around the side of the house towards the front door. They need to get out of here asap.

 

**The End**


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